


Powerless

by LuminiaAravis



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Ballet, Bruce & Hulk Interaction, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce without the Hulk, Codependency, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Memory Loss, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Backstory, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rewrite, Steve Rogers Feels, Thor Feels, Thor without powers, Tony Feels, Tony isn't Iron Man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminiaAravis/pseuds/LuminiaAravis
Summary: What happens when Heroes lose their Super?A mysterious spell is cast on Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Thor that leaves them without their superpowers. With few advantages and fewer options, they are forced to deal with their most insecure selves as they try to break the spell, with only one clue: a cryptic message hidden in a dream.A very, VERY long rewrite of A:EMH episode 2.15, "Powerless."





	1. Ouch

1\. Ouch

The Wrecking Crew was – surprise, surprise – busy wrecking Fifth Avenue near the Diamond District on Wednesday afternoon. JARVIS caught wind of it as he scanned the local news channels for Tony after lunch. He let Tony know, and Tony called the Avengers while he was getting into his armor. This model was, what, Mark 30-something?

Steve and Bruce, who had stayed at Avengers tower overnight, answered immediately. Steve came rushing downstairs and met Tony in the lobby, gripping his shield compulsively and wearing whatever sweatpants and t-shirt he had been in. Bruce had answered Tony’s call, but didn’t show up in the lobby. Instead, Big, Green, and Angry let the other two know he was ready to go by jumping the sixty stories from his bedroom window to the pavement in front of the tower, and shouting “Whoever gets there last has to buy victory pizza!”

Tony flew the few blocks to the Diamond District, and Steve caught up with him on his motorcycle. The Wrecking Crew was in the middle of emptying out an armored truck full of cash and jewelry, maybe headed back from Saks or something. The driver had ass-planted in the street. Scared but unharmed.

Before Tony could fire a repulsor blast, the wind kicked up and Thor swooped in out of nowhere. “I heard your call, Anthony,” he explained. “Luckily, I was but on the other side of the Central Park. I got here as quickly as I could.”

"That’s cool and all,” Tony responded. “But a part of me kind of doubts that all _four_ of us need to be here for this. I mean, even Cap’s taken out guys like three times his size all on his own.”

“ _Even Cap_?” Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. He threw his shield at Piledriver to get the villain’s attention. “Drop the goods, and put your hands up!” he said loudly, in that authoritative voice that was _so_ trademark Captain America. “Surrender now, and we’ll take you four in quietly. No need to cause a fuss.”

Piledriver, Bulldozer, Thunderball, and Wrecker stopped for a second. Just a second. Before they burst out laughing. “Nah, I don’t think we will,” Piledriver replied, cracking his knuckles. “What’d’you say, guys? Odds ain’t gonna get any better than one-on-one.”

The other three Wreckers nodded and grinned before they attacked. Repulsor blasts sparkled, reflecting in apartment windows and gilded storefronts. Mjolnir and Cap’s shield rang out like church bells, bouncing off the Wreckers, the truck, the buildings, the street, and each other. Six blocks away, two or three hipsters live tweeted that the Hulk screaming all up and down Fifth was interrupting their coffee breaks.

The fight seemed to be going pretty textbook. The bad guys were starting to tire, and their confident quips had turned to “Why you!” and “Now you’ve pissed me off!” Thor and the Hulk had picked up their traditional line of banter: Who was the strongest, who smelled the worst, etc. Steve could have _sworn_ that he heard Tony _laugh_ as he streaked by, carrying Thunderball by the scruff of the neck on his costume, before he threw the villain ass-first into the same truck that he had just tried to rob. “Careful what you wish for,” Tony snickered.

The Hulk and Thor had successfully rounded up Piledriver and Wrecker, and Bulldozer looked like he was getting ready to bolt. Cap tentatively lowered his shield, and mentally prepared himself to make a dash for his bike in case he’d have to track Dozer down. He relaxed a little more when the NYPD came blaring onto the scene and created a perimeter around the relatively small fight scene with cop cars and marking cones. Not that he’d trust the cops to take on the Wrecking Crew all by themselves, but hey. It looked like the four of them were all ready to reconsider.

Thor landed triumphantly next to Cap, swinging Mjolnir confidently, like a lifeguard swinging a lanyard. “What a way to start the day,” he said, thankfully using his inside voice for once. “I think it’s fair to say that I do not need to feel guilty about eating that bear’s claw for breakfast,” he said. “Apparently, they are very high in calories, and it is proper to out-work yourself after eating one.”

“You mean _work out_?” Steve asked, smiling in spite of himself. He stored his shield on his back and rolled his neck and shoulders. Seemed like he was fine except for some sore muscles and a bruise or two. “Why would _you_ need to count calories?”

“I must, lest I become fat,” Thor replied. “Jane has been telling me all about this Midgardian diet she’s on. Although I tell her every day that she is not fat at all, and needs not fear becoming such. I, on the other hand, eat the equivalent of several dozen Earth meals a day. ‘Tis a small miracle that I am still fit!”

Tony landed unceremoniously beside the two. “The cops have the Wrecking Crew under control,” he reported. “And did I hear right? Thor, are you going on a diet?”

“Aye!” the god replied. “I do not wish to grow a belly before my time.”

Even under the titanium-alloy faceplate, it was obvious that Tony was rolling his eyes. “Can _someone_ explain to this pillar of chiseled abs how metabolism works?” he said, before taking off again to distract the Hulk, and keep the green guy within the police perimeter so he could shrink back down without causing any more damage.

Just as the Crew were being herded into a police van, a dark cloud began to swirl overhead. It crackled with thunder, whipped up loose paper and shopping bags, and slid over the sun. “That’s one helluva stormcloud,” Steve commented, raising a hand to shield his eyes, as he tilted his head to watch it.

Thor impulsively grabbed Cap’s wrist. “That is no normal storm cloud,” he said lowly. “It is full of dark magic,” he warned.

“How do you know?” Steve asked. “Is it – is it Asgardian?”

“Nay, it is not from Asgard,” Thor replied. “But I fear its caster may be.”

Before any of them could move another inch, a bolt of lightning struck each of them. And within the same instant, it was like the cloud had never been there.

All four of the Avengers had been thrown to the ground. Steve’s ears rang and his head spun as he tried to regain his bearings. He blinked. Something wasn’t right. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Wait – why did the world suddenly look like a sepia photo? – Jesus Christ. He dug a finger – a too-thin finger – into his right ear. He popped his jaw. Nothing. The ringing was gone, and so was his hearing. Fuck. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t new at all. Steve knew _exactly_ what this was.

He pitched forwards onto his hands and knees. Why the fuck were his arms and wrists so goddamn skinny? The weight of his shield was suddenly almost crushing on his back. He shrugged it off awkwardly, like a cat trying to wriggle out of a harness. The red-white-and-blue disc fell to the street with a _clang_. He got up, tripping over pant legs that were suddenly too long, and shaded his eyes, suddenly too sensitive to light.

Thor was down, too. For whatever reason, his signature Asgardian costume had disappeared. The god (ex-god?) hadn’t shrunk in size, but by the way he struggled to regain his feet, too, Steve guessed that much of his mystical strength had left him. He squinted, straining to see down the block where Tony and the Hulk had been. He couldn’t see either of them. No whizzing red-and-gold streak in the sky, and no big green guy either.

But the worst news was that the Wrecking Crew had seen the whole thing. And, even though, as bad guys went, they weren’t the brightest bulbs on the Hanukkah tree, even _they_ had figured it out. Out of the police van, off came the handcuffs. A few of the police officers fired at the Crew, but they either missed or the bullets were deflected. The four villains scrambled to pick up the cash and jewels they had left behind, like kids picking up candy from a piñata.

Steve didn’t think. Not at all. He hefted his shield onto his right arm, and charged at them. All Bulldozer had to do was reach out and swat at the tiny man running awkwardly towards him. Dozer didn’t even hit Steve hard enough to make the shield really vibrate. There wasn’t much force to absorb. But he went flying, and slammed into the concrete. His neck snapped, his head bounced off the pavement. And everything went to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thanks so much for the positive response thus far. I'm realizing as I publish this chapter by chapter that things don't realy pick up until chapter 4 or 5. 2 and 3 are fairly short but not unimportant, so I implore you to read on even if chapter 1 seems a bit bland. I promise it gets interesting. 
> 
> Cheers!


	2. Underground

2\. Underground

As Steve faded back into consciousness, a cacophonous headache crackled into existence behind his eyes. It seemed to spread all down his body. He knew the feeling all too well. _Broken ribs, sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder_. He opened his eyes – his stupid, fucking, color-blind eyes – and the first thing he saw was Thor’s bicep. The fallen god had scooped him up and was holding him tightly to his chest, like he was some sort of damsel in distress or something.

Looked like Bruce had calmed down enough to shrink back to normal, and was hovering over Steve, looking incredibly worried. He was still missing his shirt, and had all the tell-tale signs of post-Hulk stress about him. Dark, half-open eyes. Heavy breathing. But the adrenaline had almost left Banner’s system – the big guy had made sure of that – and his movements were steady and measured. “Steve, thank _Christ_ ,” Bruce said. “You hurt?”

“Yeah, but not too bad,” Steve replied.

"Thank the Allfather,” Thor added, loosening his protective grip on the smallest Avenger. The ex-god was dressed in street clothes, now. He wore a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel. Steve’s shield was on the ground next to him. “Can you sit unaided?”

“I think so,” Steve said, and Thor placed him gingerly on the concrete. It looked like they were in an abandoned subway tunnel. “Where’s Tony?”

“I’m not sure,” Bruce admitted. “He followed us when we first got down here, but he left us somewhere back there, where the tunnel split off.”

“Why did we come down here in the first place?” Steve asked. “We’re in a subway tunnel, right?”

Bruce nodded, looking defeated. “I didn’t know what to do. Tony seemed too disoriented to keep fighting, you were out cold, maybe dead, I don’t know what I was thinking, Thor wanted to stay and fight. But I called a retreat.”

“You mean the Wrecking Crew is still up there. Wreaking havoc,” Steve said, a note of panic blossoming in his voice.

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Bruce explained. “Tasha and Clint should be there. And it’s not like the Avengers are the only heroes in New York. There’s Dr. Strange, that Spiderman kid and his friends, and I think the Fantastic Four are in town. Is Hank Pym still here or did he and Jan go on a business trip?” Bruce thought aloud.

“I know not,” Thor chimed in. “But I do know that the Black Panther in his homeland presently. Yet surely Heimdall was watching over all of us, and still is. He would not let us get into trouble that we couldn’t get out of. He would call Sif and the Warriors Three!”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “First things first. Let’s find Tony. But one of you guys is gonna have to pop my shoulder back in before we go.”

“You dislocated your shoulder?” Bruce asked.

"Yeah, when the Wrecking Crew backhanded me into the sidewalk,” Steve replied. “My wrist is sprained from holding the shield, and a few of my ribs are cracked, too.”

Bruce looked hopefully at Thor.

“What?” the large blond asked. “Why must I?”

“Because you’ve probably done this like a thousand times,” Bruce explained.

“Thou art a physician, no?” Thor retorted.

“For the last time, Thor, _I am not that kind of doctor_!”

“And for the last time, what good is a doctor,” Thor said, as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder without warning, “who cannot help people!” _CRACK_.

Steve let himself cry out loud for a few seconds. Mostly with surprise. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten his shoulder popped, so the acute, white-hot pain wasn’t new. Thor wrapped an arm around Steve’s torso to support him, as he rocked back and forth, breathing strained and heavy. “Verily, your tolerance for pain has not lessened,” Thor remarked. “Clearly thou art a great warrior, no matter thy size.”

“That’s the idea,” Steve hissed through clenched teeth. “Alright, let’s go find Tony.” He got to his feet using Thor for support. He took a moment to roll up his sweatpants so he wouldn’t trip over them, and slid off his sneakers, now several sizes too big. Thor carried Steve’s shield.

“This way,” Bruce indicated, pointing down the tunnel.

“So what happened to you two?” Steve asked, flopping along in overlarge socks.

“I was the Hulk, and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t,” Bruce said, shivering. “I even _tried_ to get the big guy to come back. But I just can’t. He’s just…not home. He’s usually there, in the back of my mind, but now I can’t find him anywhere.” Thor took off his flannel and gave it to Bruce, who slipped it over his shoulders. “Not fair, _you_ got new clothes,” he muttered.

“You worried?” Steve posed.

“You know what? I thought I’d be relieved. But I’m not,” Bruce answered. “I can’t protect you two like this. But the Other Guy could.”

“I have lost mine godly strength,” Thor interjected. “And Mjolnir has turned into this,” he said, holding out a Swiss Army Knife before slipping it back into his pocket. “Of what use I am, I know not, my friends,” he admitted. “But my pledge to protect the Nine Realms still stands.”

“You think we should head topside? See what’s going on?” Bruce asked. Steve noticed he was barefoot, too.

“Not until we find Tony,” he insisted. “If it were any of us, he wouldn’t leave us down here.”

“Right, right,” Bruce said, trudging on.

“D’ you know what happened to him?” Steve asked.

“Not entirely,” Thor replied. “He did seem dazed, speaking gibberish and flying in a very strange manner. Anthony is usually clever; quick-witted. But for some reason, after the spell was cast, he seemed just the opposite.”

“I hope he hasn’t hurt himself,” Steve thought aloud. “Sounds like the spell really messed with his head. By the way, Thor, you said that this was Asgardian magic, right?”

“Nay, I said the spell may have been _cast_ by an Asgardian.”

“Anyone you know want to mess with you?” Steve asked.

“Dozens of gods and creatures would benefit from my disadvantage,” Thor replied. “Though I have no idea whose trick this is, in particular.”

“FUCK!” Bruce shouted, and dropped to his knees. Steve and Thor rushed to his side. “Stepped on a nail or something,” Bruce explained, clutching his left foot. Thor scooped him up without asking. Steve looked at Bruce’s foot, and carefully removed a bent nail that had fortunately only stuck in a fraction of an inch. Thor continued carrying him bridal-style down the way. Bruce tucked his arms inside Thor’s flannel, closed his eyes, and seemed to nod off.

“Lucky _you’ve_ still got some strength,” Steve remarked. “I can’t imagine how much the Hulk takes it out of him.”

Thor nodded in agreement. “Speaking of strength,” Thor said, “long have I known that your body used to be frail, before you became the Captain of America. But what are your limits?”

Steve smiled weakly. “Pretty much anything you can imagine, I can’t do. Can’t lift or carry much of anything, can only run for a short distance, can’t see or hear too well, and I have heart and breathing problems.”

“And yet you stand! Most mortals would, how do you say it? Lay up and fry?”

“Lay down and die,” Steve said grimly. “And thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I, too, have been in this ­weaker form once before,” Thor said.

“When was that?”

“I was banished to Mexico – the new one, I am told – and my father took away my strength then, too.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Aye, and he only saw fit to return it again once I had learned humility. That it is not pure power from which a warrior draws his might, but from quality of character.”

“So do you think this is some kind of test?” Steve asked.

“Mayhaps,” Thor replied. “But why administer a test that I have already proven capable of passing?”

“Fair point,” Steve admitted.

“I was trying to say that I still know you are a warrior, Steven,” Thor continued. “The valor you showed on the street above, rushing towards the enemy with nary a thought for your own safety indicates that your heart is brave. Even if your body is feeble.”

“You call it valor, most people call it stupid,” Steve replied. “It’s not – when Cap rushes into combat, it’s different. But when _I_ do it, people just yell at me and tell me how reckless I am.”

“Only because we care,” Thor said. “But you know your limits, you know your abilities. It is no one’s place to say what you can and cannot do, Steven. Aye, the life of a warrior does cause others to worry. It always has. But that does not mean that the battle is not worth fighting.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Steve said.

“You must tell me if you tire,” Thor said.

“What, you can carry me _and_ Banner? Doesn’t look like the spell got you that badly,” Steve joked, giving Thor a playful shove. He wasn’t surprised when Thor didn’t move an inch. But the familiar feeling of strain in his thin arms struck a note of panic in his chest. This was for real.

After a few more minutes of walking along in silence, Thor stopped short. “Do you hear that?” he said.

Steve dug a finger into his right ear again, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. “I can’t, Thor. My hearing’s for crap.”

“’Tis a metallic noise up ahead. Perhaps it is Anthony?”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “Let me scout ahead.”

“Folly,” Thor said, placing an enormous hand on Steve’s chest. “I shall go ahead, in case there is danger.”

Steve brushed Thor’s hand off. “Now what was all that talk about telling me what I can and can’t do? Besides, you need to watch over Bruce. I’m small and quiet, I’ll be okay.”

“At least – here, take this,” Thor handed Steve his shield. Vibranium was an incredibly light metal, but Steve could still feel the difference in the heft and weight of his shield. “Protect yourself.”

“I will,” Steve promised. He tiptoed ahead of Thor and Bruce, straining his eyes to see around the curve of the tunnel. Soon, he could hear the clanging sound, too. It _did_ sound like Tony’s armor. He motioned for Thor to hold back, and paced slowly forward.

Tony was sitting in the middle of the tracks, curled over, pieces of his armor strewn all around. “Damn it – fuck it – God – what the fuck –” Tony clawed at the faceplate, his armored fingers slipping over the tiny manual release lever over and over again. He got his helmet off just in time to vomit dryly onto the concrete.

“Tony!” Steve shouted, and ran the hundred feet to him. Steve slid into the pile of discarded armor plates like a baseball player running into home. “Tony, what happened to you?” he asked, taking Tony’s shaking hands and pulling the manual catch on each of the gloves.

“I don’t know,” Tony gasped, wiping his mouth. “I don’t fucking know, just get me outta here, get me outta the fucking suit –”

Steve knew better than to ask questions at the moment. Piece by piece, he helped Tony manually release all the plates of the Iron Man suit. Thor jogged up to them, still carrying Bruce. “Anthony! We feared the worst for you!”

Tony collapsed onto the tracks, breathing like he had run a marathon. “Thank you, Christ,” he panted. “I don’t know how I got into that thing.”

“What, your suit?” Steve asked. “You put it on before we headed out, right after lunch, remember?”

“Fucking no,” Tony answered. “I remember going out of the house, uh, the tower, and uh, we were going to get some Pinkberry, and then there were these four guys. Robbing a truck.” His eyes, wide with fear, passed over Steve, Thor, and Bruce. “You guys were there, obviously. But. You’re different. What happened?”

“A spell most wicked,” Thor said.

“Bruce – Jesus Christ, you gotta tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s alright,” Steve assured him. “Just exhausted. What about you?”

“I don’t fucking know, that’s the problem!” Tony shouted. “I was having a normal day, watching you guys fight crime and shit, and then I was stuck inside this fucking suit! And I don’t know what it does, I don’t know how it works, so I just book it! And – and I couldn’t steer right, I kept crashing into the wall and shit down here, and then I lost you guys so I just stopped and tried to get this fucking thing offa me!”

Steve gave Thor a significant look. “The spell took away what makes us superheroes,” Steve said. “My strength, Thor’s Asgardian powers, the Hulk, and you. They took Iron Man.”

“What the fuck is an Iron Man?” Tony snapped.

“You are, Anthony,” Thor said, frowning. “You remember us, yet you do not remember yourself? How is that so?”

“I don’t have any memory loss,” Tony explained. “I _remember_ everything. I know who you guys are, I just don’t know how I got in the fucking tin suit! Will someone please explain!?” Tony shuddered and curled in on himself again.

Steve knew the signs of a panic attack when he saw them. He’d had his fair share. Steve reached out and rubbed slow circles on Tony’s back. “Catch your breath, Tony,” he said softly. “It’s alright that you feel this way for now, but it’s gonna pass. We know you’re angry and confused. Just try and breathe. This feeling will go away, just wait it out.” Thor sat down against the wall, holding Bruce securely in his lap. Tony’s breath came in spasms, and he shook, his fists clenching and unclenching the fabric on his shirtsleeves. “Breathe with me, in - - - and out - - -”

After a few minutes, he managed to whisper “I’m okay,” so Steve could hear.

“Tony, I really need you to tell me what happened to you.”

“I was having a normal day and then I got stuck in that tin can.”

“No, before that.” Steve mentally flipped through everything he knew about Tony. “Have you ever been to Iraq?”

“Yeah, in ’08,” Tony replied. “I got taken prisoner by this terrorist group, and –”

“How did you escape?” Steve asked.

“Rhodey found me,” Tony said.

“What next?” Steve pressed.

“Uh, I went back to being my usual badass self,” Tony answered.

“But us, how do you know us?”

“I make your gadgets,” Tony replied. “Well, not me personally, but Stark Industries does. And you guys have a base at Stark Tower. Avengers Tower. Whatever. But we’re friends, right?” Tony asked, as if he really wasn’t sure. “That shit isn’t made up?”

“Never was anything so true,” Thor interjected. “We are the best of friends, Anthony. We always have been and we always shall be.”

“So, this suit of armor means nothing to you?” Steve asked, picking up Iron Man’s faceplate.

“No, why do you keep coming back to that fucking thing?” Tony shouted.

“Alright, enough of that,” Steve said, tossing the faceplate aside. “You said that Stark Industries makes our gadgets – weapons – whatever.”

“Yeah, we made Barton’s arrows, Widow’s wrist thingies, your bike, the Quinjet you guys take on missions. And the Stark Foundation raises money for when you guys accidentally, you know, wreck shit. Lookin’ at you, Bob the Builder,” Tony said, nodding at Thor.

“You don’t have a hand in it?” Steve followed up.

“No. What, do you guys think I’m some kind of genius or something?” Tony answered. “I hire science nerds for that. No, no, and lemme explain. Since you all seem confused. I keep track of the toys and the cash flow so you three and Widow and Barton can save the world when it needs saving. And sometimes I like to tag along and live Tweet stuff to drum up interest. Like I was this morning.”

“I believe it not,” Thor said. “Anthony without his cleverness?”

“Not without cleverness, necessarily,” Steve said, getting to his feet. “You can be plenty clever and not know a lick of science. Smarts come in all types. Tony, what are you good at?” he asked.

“Uh. Is hot tubbing an acceptable answer?” Tony replied. “PR, guys. Come on. Every boy band needs a manager.”

Thor sighed heavily, but Steve didn’t say anything. His mind was racing. What was Tony without Iron Man? Their identities had become one and the same over the past six years. But only time would tell if Tony was really only playing with half a deck.

Before anyone else could say anything, a lithe blue and red figure descended from the ceiling on a thin white thread. “So it _is_ true!” the masked man squeaked. “You guys – the cops weren’t exaggerating! You’ve all been de-powered!” The blue and red figure dropped to his feet and extended a hand to Steve.

“Sir, I’m Spiderman,” the young man babbled. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of me, but I work downtown a few times a week. Just, you know, little bad guys and stuff. Not like you four. _Avengers_. With a capital _A_. God, I’m sorry, I’m gushing,” Spiderman said, visibly embarrassed even under his mask.

Steve took the costumed hand in his and gave it as firm a shake as he could muster. “Good to meet you, Spiderman,” he said. “We’ve heard a little about you on the news. You and your friends. To be honest, I’m surprised you recognized us like this.”

“Gosh, I’d recognize you anywhere, Captain Rogers, sir,” Spiderman said. Steve couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just uh, the NYPD has a bolo out on you four. Wanna make sure you’re alright. I caught it on one of their scanners. Not – not like I stole one! I just have super-hearing. So I came to find you guys. Are you all alright? I can call an ambulance if you need one.”

“I think we’re alright,” Steve said, speaking for the group.

Tony stood up, finally, and addressed Spiderman. “What happened to the Wrecking Crew?” he asked.

“My team got ‘em rounded up,” Spiderman answered. “I mean, it wasn’t easy or anything, you guys softened ‘em up a _ton_ before we got there. They pretty much just surrendered when they saw the tights. Least we could do.”

“You’ve done well, Spiderman,” Steve said. “You have a name?”

“Uh, he just told us. It’s Spiderboy,” Tony interrupted.

But the eager teen blurted, “MynameisPeterParkersir,” before anyone could stop him.

There was a beat of silence. “So then what’s the mask for?” Tony asked sarcastically.

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Steve said, drawing himself up to his full height, trying and failing to ignore the fact that the gangly teenager before him was _still_ taller than him, and trying his best to still sound Captain America-ish.

“Secret identities are so outdated anyway,” Tony said. “Why bother?”

“Because, uh, I uh,” Peter stammered. “I still gotta go to high school in the morning?”

“’Tis none of our business why the Man-Spider wishes to remain anonymous,” Thor chimed in. “Though by the looks of him, he ought to be called _Boy_ -Spider, indeed, despite being in the Highest of Schools.”

“None of that matters right now, Thor,” Steve said. “Let’s get back to the Tower and see if we can get someone to fill us in on what we missed.”

  



	3. Recovery

3\. Recovery

Peter escorted Tony, Steve, Thor, and Bruce back to Avengers Tower. Luckily, they only had to walk a few blocks from where they had been hiding underground. By the time they arrived, White Tiger, Nova, and Iron Fist had already pulled up chairs in the granite and glass lobby, waiting for Peter to return. “The Wrecking Crew is in custody, Captain Rogers,” White Tiger informed them. “We’re glad we could help you out.”

Peter took a slip of paper out of his costume and handed it to Steve. “Don’t hesitate to call us if you need help,” he stammered. “I mean, not like you’d _need_ our help. Just, you know, like, if there’s two fights going on at once, and one of ‘em’s really wimpy and we could just lend a hand. You know, basic stuff. Captain America. Rogers. Sir. Uh.”

As the group of teens was leaving, Steve could have sworn he heard Nova say, “Dude, did you just give Captain America your number?”

The four Avengers took the elevator up to their living quarters. Thor put Bruce down on the sectional, and covered him with a well-loved throw blanket. “I gotta go change,” Steve said.

“Into what? You’re the smallest one here, Stevie Wonder,” Tony quipped.

“I’ll borrow some of Tasha’s stuff until I can get clothes that fit,” Steve replied. “I don’t think she’ll mind.” Steve didn’t _dare_ enter the Black Widow’s bedroom, so he rifled through Natasha’s gym locker and picked out a pair of yoga pants with a drawstring waist and one of her rarely worn teeny-weeny t-shirts.

When he paced back into the living room, he found Thor resting in an armchair, fiddling with the Swiss Army Knife that had been Mjolnir only a few hours ago. The thunder god looked at it with an unfocused, worried gaze. He flipped it through his fingers, absentmindedly opening and closing the attachments. A blade. A flint. A corkscrew.

Tony was pacing around the room, an equally unfocused look in his eyes. He ran his hands over every surface. The steel railings on the stairs. The glass on top of the coffee table. JARVIS’ console on the wall. Tony looked like Steve had felt during his first few days in the 21st century. Like it was all familiar, and yet somehow new to him.

“Do you remember JARVIS?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Tony answered. “My dad’s butler. Died like thirty years ago. Why, how do you know him?”

“He’s a digital assistant you developed,” Steve explained. “JARVIS, Tony’s lost parts of his memory – can you reintroduce yourself?”

“Certainly, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. I am JARVIS, your personal assistant and steward of Avengers Tower. It is my function to care for your every need,” the computer explained in his smooth English voice. “All you need to do is call on me, and I can provide you with a multitude of services.”

Tony frowned. “That doesn’t sound anything like the Jarvis I knew. So what, I’m supposed to have invented this thing, too?”

“Supposedly, yeah,” Steve said, flopping down on the couch next to Bruce. “But maybe that doesn’t matter so much at the moment. JARVIS, where are Hawkeye and Black Widow?”

“Ms Romanov has gone shopping and has taken Mr Barton with her,” JARVIS replied. “She did not give an estimated time of return. Would you like me to place a phone call or send her a text message?”

“Shoot her a text, JARVIS,” Steve said. “Ask her to pick up some small shirts that don’t say _YOLO_ on them Not even ironically.” Tony snickered. “And we’re gonna need some serious takeout. Nobody’s gonna wanna cook tonight.”

“Shall I order the food?” JARVIS asked.

“Sure. Send out for shawarma,” Steve requested. “Post-mission amounts of shawarma.”

“I shall place the order so it arrives in time for dinner,” JARVIS said. “Will that be all, sir?” Steve cast Tony a significant glance. The billionaire had gravitated towards the bar, and was pouring himself some bourbon. _That hasn’t changed_ , Steve thought. He also noticed Tony’s hands shaking. “Let’s watch some Netflix,” Steve suggested. “They got new episodes of _Bob’s Burgers_ , Tony.”

“Sure, whatever,” Tony said, curling up in an armchair opposite Thor, clutching his drink close. JARVIS turned on the TV and started the show for them. _Just enough to keep everyone’s mind off of things until Tasha and Clint and Pepper get home_ , he said to himself.

An hour went by. Tony had finished his bourbon and went and got the whole bottle. Steve almost reprimanded Tony and told him to put the bottle back, but thought better of it. Drinking _was_ one of Tony’s vices, but Steve supposed that he could let it slide this once, considering the sort of day they’d all had.

Thor had stopped playing with the Swiss Army Knife that used to be Mjolnir, texted Jane a few times, and had gotten a bag of cheese puffs from the kitchenette. Steve was tempted to ask Thor about the whole dieting thing, but resisted that urge, too. The guy could probably use some comfort food. Steve noticed that Bruce was asleep, not unconscious. He mumbled a few times and rolled over on the couch, dragging the throw blanket with him. Tony was pleasantly buzzed.

The idle StarkPad on the coffee table vibrated. It was Natasha. She had retweeted a video at Steve, with the caption “Is this for real.” Steve only watched the first few seconds. It was footage of the fight with the Wrecking Crew from earlier that afternoon.

Steve replied in a private message, “Yeah.”

“Emergency?” she messaged back.

“Not rn,” Steve answered.

“Y are we getting this over Twitter?”

“Long story,” Steve said. “Sorry we couldn’t keep u in the loop.” It seemed like the throbbing in Steve’s ribs and wrist was only getting worse as time dragged on, and a beautiful violet bruise had started to develop on his hand and forearm. _Bob’s Burgers_ had lost some of its charm since the world had turned to shades of brown. Steve compulsively popped his ears every few minutes, but it didn’t make a difference. His stomach twisted into knots as he checked the clock. It was 4:15. 4:22. 4:37. “JARVIS, where’s Tasha?”

“The GPS in her phone places her two blocks away from the tower. It seems that she and Mr Barton are heading home.”

“Finally,” Steve sighed.

Thor straightened up in his chair. “Steven, you look white as a ghost. What ails you?”

“Losing blood,” Steve replied. “I got bruised up back there.”

“Can I help?” Thor asked, getting up from his seat and kneeling down next to Steve.

“I could probably use some iron,” Steve said. “But it’s not like there would be an iron supplement just laying around in the kitchen. How about some water. Or, you know what? Did Pepper leave some of her vitamin water in the fridge? How about a B12 and one of those One-a-Days on top of the microwave? That might help.”

“Of course,” Thor acquiesced. “What do you need iron for? Will any metal do?” he asked.

“I’m anemic, Thor,” Steve explained. “Iron is what carries oxygen through the bloodstream. I can’t absorb enough of it to stay healthy.”

“How cruel,” Thor said, bringing Steve the bottle. “That the very blood in thy veins is weak. Is this sickness inborn or acquired?”

“Can be both,” Steve said. “My body just can’t hold on to iron. Never could. Getting vitamin B helps a little.” Steve awkwardly took the vitamin water bottle in his left hand. Thor noticed, and grimaced when he realized that Steve’s right wrist and right hand were a mess of bruises.

“Why did you not tell us that you were wounded, Steven?” he said lowly, so Tony, who was halfway to sozzled now, couldn’t hear. “There is no valor in ignoring thine own needs, not now, not when the battle has ceased.”

Steve sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay first, I guess,” he said lamely.

“I shall get the First Kit of Aid,” Thor said, and half-walked half-jogged to the bathroom. “Fear not,” he said, returning with the kit. “I am no physician, but Jane and Darcy have instructed me in the use of these implements. I shall bind thy wounds until a trained healer can see you.” Thor unrolled an ace bandage and wrapped it clumsily around Steve’s wrist. But it was tight enough to provide the stability needed. Then Thor smashed open an instant ice-pack, wrapped it in a towel, and held it to Steve’s hand. “I believe this is an ice now, heat later injury,” he said, mostly to himself. Steve bit back tears – from the sprain, of course – and tried his best to smile.

“Some Tylenol would help,” Steve whispered, worried that if he raised his voice more, he would give away how much pain he was really in.

“Verily,” Thor said, and ran and got some from the medicine cabinet. Steve took two – even though he knew he should really only take one, given his weight – and tried to relax back into the armchair and stay focused on the TV. Thor paced over to Tony and took the bottle of bourbon out of his limp hand, and then went over rearrange the blankets for Bruce so his feet and ankles weren’t sticking out.

He hadn’t so much as sat back down when Pepper came bursting through the door, dropping her leather folio, her slingback shoes dangling from one hand, sprinting towards Tony. “Tony, I heard about it on the news!” she said, breathless. Tony was only really half-awake, but reached up to take Pepper’s hand.

“’M okay, Pep,” he said.

“No, no, haven’t you guys been watching the news? Haven’t you guys been online at all? Someone got the whole thing with an iPhone camera and it went viral! God, I thought it was fake, but then Steve texted Natasha and then Natasha and Jane tweeted me and I came home as soon as I could, Tony! Say something!”

Tony got up – not without effort – and hugged Pepper close. “I don’t know what happened,” he said softly. “They’re telling me I lost my memory or something, but I don’t _not_ remember anything. Pep, tell me you have no idea what an Iron Man is. Tell me they’re making this shit up.”

Pepper put a hand over her mouth. “Tony, _you’re_ Iron Man.” Tony’s face fell, but he didn’t look surprised. “I don’t understand, who do you think you are?”

“I _thought_ I was Tony Stark,” Tony blurted, swinging around to face the ceiling-to-floor windows. “I mean, I still am, right? I’m rich, handsome, great at parties, but I have _no idea_ what all this science stuff has to do with me! Seriously!”

Thor put a gentle hand on Pepper’s shoulder. “But that is of little import, Lady Potts,” he said, trying his best to sound conciliatory. “We could have been in much greater danger than we were. We are fortunate that we are all mostly unharmed. Anthony included.”

Pepper’s ears and nose were turning pink. “But you remember me, right?” she asked Tony. “You remember us?”

Tony returned to her side and put both his arms around her waist. “You’re the only one who’s making any sense, Pepper,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I remember us.”

“Thank God for that,” Pepper whispered, and spread light kisses along Tony’s cheek and jaw. “And thank God for the shawarma guy in the lobby,” she said, wiping her eyes and cracking a smile. “I asked Happy to bring the food up in a few minutes. I just wanted to see you guys first. Thor, Steve, are you guys okay? How’s Bruce?”

“I am unharmed,” Thor said. “Bruce is merely exhausted. Steven has minor injuries. Rather,” he corrected himself, “he has sustained injuries that would have been minor, if it weren’t for the spell. He needs medical aid.”

Pepper caught sight of Steve’s wrist and offered her hand. “Who wrapped that, the Hulk?” she said, and took a few minutes to gently re-bandage Steve’s wrist. “We’re gonna get you to a doctor,” she said. “Or, you know what, I’m gonna call one. You guys shouldn’t be out like this.”

"Like what?” Tony said, annoyed. “Like usual? Nothing about me’s different, I’m just an average guy. You placing me under house arrest?”

"Lady Potts has a point,” Thor added. “If this video of the spell has spread like a disease on the Wide Web of the World, then everyone surely knows of our transformation by now.”

Pepper blinked, and Steve translated, “He means since the video’s gone viral.”

“Aye, it has caught on like a deadly plague,” Thor continued. “Infecting computers and intelligent cellular devices alike. Jane has sent me a songbird on my phone that carried the video with it.”

“Jane retweeted it,” Steve whispered to Pepper.

“No Midgardian could have missed it. And yea, our enemies have surely seen it, as well.”

Tony frowned. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he mumbled, looking at his toes.

Steve jumped in before Tony could beat himself up too much about it. “We’re not at our best today, Tony,” he interjected. “None of us are. And you had a full-blown panic attack not too long ago. You know what that does to your focus? Not to mention the bourbon? It’s okay. We don’t have to be at one-hundred percent all the time.”

“But that’s who I _am_ , Steve. I might not be a science genius, but social media and the news? That’s my _thing_ ,” Tony rebutted. “I’m like, your guys’ publicist. You know how many Twitter followers I have? And Thor came up with a tech idea before me? What universe are we _in_?”

Pepper took Tony’s hand again. “Tony, let’s just relax tonight. Okay, let’s just relax and have shawarma and watch TV. JARVIS, can you call a doctor?”

“Whom shall I call?” JARVIS asked. “Do you need a PhD, or an MD?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Pepper said exasperatedly. “We need a medical doctor, JARVIS!”

“Very good,” JARVIS replied. “I shall ring a doctor who is available to make a house call.”

As soon as JARVIS said _ring_ , the elevator door dinged. Happy, Natasha, and Clint spilled out of the elevator. Happy’s arms were full of takeout bags, Clint’s arms were full of shopping. Natasha was too busy angrily power-walking towards Steve to carry anything just now. “Jesus Christ, you know what it’s like to get bad news over Twitter?” she said harshly. She grasped Steve’s shoulders tightly. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Steve? And don’t give me any of that _It’s not the muscles, it’s the man_ bullshit. You. Should be. In the hospital.”

“We’re okay too,” Tony interrupted. Natasha spared Thor, Bruce, and Tony a glance.

“Bruce –?” Natasha asked.

“Asleep,” Pepper answered.

“Tony?”

“Smashed!” Tony replied, holding up the bourbon.

“Thor?”

“I’ve had worse,” Thor said. “But lo, are we not all hungry? Man of Happiness, set out the shawarma!”


End file.
